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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27358897">Solus</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillsithereandtrytocontribute/pseuds/iwillsithereandtrytocontribute'>iwillsithereandtrytocontribute</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>You All Speak Latin in My Dreams [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Nightmares, Parent Death (past not described in detail), Spoilers for Rome Arc (Rusty Quill Gaming), i've been having a lot of Thoughts about sasha the letters and rome</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:49:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,992</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27358897</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillsithereandtrytocontribute/pseuds/iwillsithereandtrytocontribute</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Sasha Racket has had her life torn apart a thousand times, a thousand ways. She’s lost her parents, her friends, her rivals, her mentors, and everyone in between.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>You All Speak Latin in My Dreams [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2000185</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Solus</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>1. The title "Solus" is Latin for alone.<br/>2. There's some Latin interspersed in the text, it should be translated right after. If not, please let me know.<br/>3. My personal headcanon is that Sasha did name a kid Brock and just didn't mention it because none of the people receiving this letter actually knew Brock.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sasha Racket has had her life torn apart a thousand times, a thousand ways. She’s lost her parents, her friends, her rivals, her mentors, and everyone in between. Growing up in Other London though, you learn to be tough. To have a thick skin so that if you can’t dodge the knives they still can’t leave a mark.</p><p> </p><p>Nothing could have prepared her for this. So much has happened in the span of three days. She went to Rome, saved Beaming Gusset and the other hostages, time traveled, lost her friend, and watched the fall of Rome in real time. And here she is trudging along in the countryside that surrounds what was once Rome. The gutted empty shell she’d seen 2,000 years in the future now that the dragons had had their fill of revenge.</p><p> </p><p>Sasha is not alone for once, though sometimes she can’t quite decide if it’s a blessing or a curse. She thinks maybe somewhere in the middle. She’s grown used to being around company, even just those few friends, the past couple months. Gods, it’s only been a month or two since she left London behind, likely forever. <em> Does London even exist now? </em></p><p> </p><p>Cicero follows doggedly behind her. It’s his turn to hold the kid. Sasha couldn’t save everyone. Hell, she could barely save <em> anyone </em>, but they couldn’t ignore the child they found, half buried under the rubble. Somehow he had survived. And somehow they had found him. Sasha couldn’t save everyone, she couldn’t save Grizzop, but she could save him. </p><p> </p><p>Cicero looked up to catch Sasha’s eye and she realized with a start that she’d been staring at him. She nodded at him awkwardly and he nodded back. </p><p> </p><p>“Water?” Sasha asked, forgetting where she was for a minute. “Um, right sorry,” she continued seeing Cicero’s confused expression. “Right. Á-áqua? Right? Or is that Spanish,” Sasha mused to herself. Judging from the change in Cicero’s expression she’d gotten it right. He carefully laid the kid down and took the water skin as Sasha offered it.</p><p> </p><p>As he drank, Sasha took stock of their combined injuries. Cicero is looking a lot better than he did yesterday, even going on with no sleep as they are. His main injuries were healed by the potion and he had gotten over the shock well enough. Sasha had had worse. And the kid probably had some head trauma, fading in and out of consciousness like he was. So all in all, they might look like hell, but they were surviving. </p><p> </p><p>“Témpus?” Sasha tried in her broken Latin. The potions they’d taken back in Rome had long since worn off, leaving a language gap with a thin bridge across, held up by the few Latin lessons she had taken back when Barret had sent her to Upper London for “an education.”</p><p> </p><p>Cicero held up 4 fingers. “Quáttuor hóra.” 4 hours. Sasha nodded and took a deep breath. She took the water skin back and hooked it onto her belt. She counted her daggers obsessively, checking and double-checking that her spring-loaded wrist sheaths were loaded. Finally satisfied, she lifted the kid as gently as she could, muscles screaming in protest as she lifted him, and continued in the direction Cicero had pointed in as they left the destruction of Rome. </p><p> </p><p>“I know a place,” he had said. “This way.” Sasha had followed because what else could she do? She was alone, <em> alone </em>, as out of her element as it was possible to be. So she followed.</p><p> </p><p>It took them just over 5 hours to reach the house. The villa really. It was large, with wide sprawling grounds and tall pillars that surrounded the courtyards. Sasha slumped slightly with relief. Here was a place to rest, if only for a little while. </p><p> </p><p>Cicero gestured her inside, staggering in behind her, his legs weak beneath the kid’s weight. He wasn’t particularly large, but they had been trading him off for hours with little to no rest. They had been too anxious to get away from Rome. Sasha didn’t know much about the fall of Rome, and certainly if the dragons had decided to pick off the few people who had escaped the city no one would have known about it regardless. Cicero seemed to share her anticipation if not her thought process, and had agreed without question not to sleep for the night. </p><p> </p><p>Sasha sighed, rubbing her forehead. <em> She was going to have to learn Latin wasn’t she? </em> </p><p> </p><p>She made sure the kid was taken care of. The villa seemed pretty empty, but she trusted Cicero a moderate amount at this point. Something about living through an apocalyptic event with someone makes you want to trust him. <em> Sasha would not be surprised to learn later that the villa was owned by a rich family. All of whom were in Rome at the time of its fall. At its center. The chances of their survival were slim to none. They did not turn up to reclaim their home.</em> </p><p> </p><p>Finding a room for the kid, she’s started calling him Brock in her head, was easy. Sasha sits in a chair across from the bed, intending to keep an eye on him for just a little while. It wouldn’t do for him to wake up alone. Sasha has woken up alone before.</p><p> </p><p>The dark she loves so much, suddenly pressing in close. The bed-sheets, blankets, her own clothing, suddenly tight and strangulatory. Her panicked heavy breathing as she pads down the stairs to her parent’s bedroom, silent as ever, only to find a pristine, empty bed. Huddling, knees close to her chest as she instructs herself over and over not to cry. Failing. </p><p> </p><p>Sasha wakes up with a start, knife immediately in hand and held to her attacker’s throat. Cicero blinks uncomfortably, shaking slightly as he carefully removes his hand from Sasha’s shoulder. Sasha wrenches her dagger from his neck in a motion so quick it looks as though she was never holding a dagger at all. </p><p> </p><p>Looking outside she can see the sun setting. She must have fallen asleep. She’s no stranger to nightmares, though that one’s worse than most. Sasha rubs at her eyes as Cicero tries to lead her out of the room. </p><p> </p><p>“No. No, wait. We shouldn’t leave him alone!” Sasha pulls away, only to be caught by Cicero again. “Um, um.” Sasha racks her brain. “Solus,” she says, pointing at the kid. Alone. Cicero nods, pushing her towards the door again. Sasha tries protesting again, when he lets go of her to sit in the chair he had found her in.</p><p> </p><p>Sasha nodded with understanding. “Grátiās.” Thanks. Cicero returns the nod with a tired smile. </p><p> </p><p>“Sómnus.” Sleep.</p><p> </p><p>Sasha understands. And she sleeps.</p><p> </p><p>Not without nightmares.</p><p> </p><p>There’s the usual contenders; losing Brock, losing her parents, Barret’s manipulation, a particularly gory end to a co-conspirator from an Other London heist. But over the last months, she’s gained oh so many more. In her dreams she listens to Mr. Ceiling tear her mind and body apart, feels her humanity slip away, sees Zolf leave, and Grizzop die. Over and over she sees and feels spears plunge, needles prick, knives slice, and magic burn. Sasha does not remember the last time she slept through the night without waking up in a cold sweat, but the dreams have only increased in number and intensity.</p><p> </p><p>Sasha does not remember the last time her eyes were clear of their deep circles, that against her pale skin give her a sickly glow even when she’s not mostly undead. </p><p> </p><p>Sasha wakes up, and stays awake when the sun rises over the gently sloping hills surrounding the secluded villa. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she gives a small smile at the beautiful scarlet red sunrise. Her smile fades when she sees the thick wall of smoke at the edge of the horizon, assisting the sun in painting a blood red sky.</p><p> </p><p>A painful reminder that Rome has fallen and Sasha was here to see it. Alone.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>Years later</b>
</p><p> </p><p>They went back. Back to the city once they were sure the dragons had had their fill of it. They found so very few to save. Mostly children. So many children. Sasha’s heart broke to hear their cries, to see them clutching at the torn clothes of their parents as they came to save them. They aren’t alone anymore.</p><p> </p><p>Some were too young to know their names, too young to remember their families in a couple of years. Sasha gave them names. Amidus, Wilde, Brock, Azu, Grizzop, Sagax for Zolf, even Bertus. It took a couple years for the sad smile she had whenever she said their names to turn genuine, but it did happen eventually. It was as much a way to remember her friends as her yearly trips to the temple of Artemis in the nearest city were. </p><p> </p><p>She taught them everything she knew. Acrobatics, stealth, throwing daggers, how to detect traps, the whole lot of it. Cicero covered the more academic side of things, the villa had a decent library, and all things considered he was a good teacher. </p><p> </p><p>Sasha had never expected to live long. It just didn’t happen in Other London. Before she left, Barret was the oldest person she had ever seen and he wasn’t far past fifty. Besides, her line of work was dangerous. Yet, here she was, living. Passing down a legacy to these kids. She hadn’t realized how much she had wanted <em> someone </em> to learn what she knew, how much she <em> wanted </em> to pass down her knowledge. </p><p> </p><p>She found that fulfillment in the children and teenagers they rescued from the still-smoldering ruins of Rome. And they found new lives with her and Cicero.</p><p> </p><p>Still, on the days she felt like she was forgetting her old life, Sasha would slip away. To a secluded spot in the orchard that only she knew about and slide on her old leather jacket, and she would just take a moment to remember. </p><p> </p><p>Remember gruff Zolf, with more rough exterior than a ship covered in barnacles. The first to make her a <em> partner </em> rather than someone to order around. Flighty little Hamid, gods Sasha missed his hugs. Out of all of them, he was the one who’d stuck around the longest. The soft, kind Azu and her complete understanding. It was rare that Sasha could find someone to be silent with, and yet there Azu was. Grizzop, who practically vibrated whenever he got angry. Sasha always started crying by this point. Grizzop, who had given everything to protect her. And Wilde. After all their time spent together, Wilde had grown on her. Sasha still thinks of puns he would like sometimes. She writes them down on a sheaf of paper. Maybe he’ll get them one day. Even Bertie’s sharp edges have been softened with time, and memory always puts a hazy glow on the past. Sasha knows he was horrible, but he’s still a part of the best and worst months of her life, so she can’t just forget him.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>One day, many many years after Sasha has been trapped in the past she sits down to write a letter. One that she hopes might someday reach her friends. Her only way to say goodbye. </p><p> </p><p>She’s been writing them letters for years. Hamid, Azu, Wilde, even Zolf in the vain hope that they will find them. </p><p> </p><p>They are a mix of English and Latin, it’s been so long since she’s spoken or written in her native language, she can hardly remember it anymore. As time passes, they become almost entirely Latin. Sasha knows they’ll find a way to read them. </p><p> </p><p>She’s getting on in years now, so much older than she ever dreamed of being. So she writes each letter knowing it might be her last, not that she ever believed any different. </p><p> </p><p>She signs each one with the name her <em> family </em> gave her. Both of them.</p><p> </p><p>Whosaskinus “Sasha” Lolomg</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Come yell about the Rusty Quill podcasts on my Tumblr @iwillsithereandtrytocontribute.<br/>I'm also planning on doing some stuff with the letters Sasha writes in this fic. I want to expand on that (and I love writing in Sasha's voice) so stay tuned!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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